-Two Months Later-

Jim fiddled with the radio, going up and down the dial. Mostly static, some bursts of angry male voices speaking quickly in the country's unique Creole language…too quickly for him to really catch any of it. Except for the anger. He heard that loud and clear. He cursed in disgust, finally just turning the radio off.

Two months, and things had hardly changed at all. People were starving and thirsty, and undergoing amputations by the hundreds because that was easier than dealing with the complications of a crushed limb, and there was so very little he and the rest of his group could do. It was maddening. They hadn't been prepared for a disaster of this magnitude. They didn't have the supplies, or the means to get the supplies out to those who needed it, except in their direct area. The people who knew them and were familiar with them kept coming, and when someone was really sick or hurt, they did what they could, but it wasn't long before their meager medical supplies were out, and they were down to what they had for themselves…the MREs to eat a small supply of bottled water and water purifying tablets.

"Where the fuck are the supplies, Elise?" Jim asked her as she came into the portable, carrying the last of the kid's clothing they had to give out. Jim was frustrated at his impotence in this situation, and that spilled over into undirected hostility hitting anyone within hearing range. Elise simply gave him a withering look, and he subsided with a sigh.

"Sitting on the tarmac at the airport," she answered coolly. "Waiting for some pompous official to pull his head out of his ass and sign the damn document."

Jim clenched his fists, pounding them on the table as he stood. This had been a problem from day one. Haiti, under the best of circumstances, had very little stable infrastructure. It was a government rife with corruption, and now…with the turmoil the country was in…it felt like things were at a standstill. It was an untenable situation, costing lives of people who had already been through so much and who deserved better than this. He had to do something…anything was better than simply sitting around waiting.

"Jim," Elise snapped. She'd been working with him long enough to recognize when the gears in his head were kicking in. "There's nothing we can do until IRC gets those supplies assigned to us released. We're not the only group here. The main part of the city is completely gone…the people there need the supplies more than we do."

"But they're not staying there!" Jim argued. This was the point he'd been trying to make to IRC headquarters, those coordinating distribution, over intermittent radio and cellphone signals. More and more people were leaving the city, moving into the slightly less-crowded countryside and suburban areas. New camps were being established as people tried to find somewhere to start over, and the population of the area Jim's group was in had seemed to nearly triple in just a few days. So, yes, absolutely the people in the city needed the help. But the people moving out here needed it too.

"Jim," Elise said again, her voice firm.

"I know," he sighed. "I just…we should be able to offer more than a band-aid."

"I understand," she said. Of course she did. They all felt the same way. That's why they were here. "We just have to hold on a little longer." She put a map of the area on the table in front of him. "I'm going to try to get a count in these two areas tomorrow…and keep vaccinating. The more the better, at this point. Come with me, okay?"

"Sure," Jim replied. Administering the polio vaccine would help curtail the spread of the potentially devastating disease that thrived in close-quartered living. It was so contagious that preventing an outbreak was important. Without any real cure, stopping the disease was a lot harder than preventing it. It was important work, and the reminder of that helped. He squeezed Elise's hand. "Thanks."

"Any time," she said. Jim left her to pull together the supplies she was planning on bringing out tomorrow and made his way to the small room he had to himself. He did have a roommate for a couple of days once. There was a kid who shared with him for a couple of nights before he'd opted to move in with Simon and Duncan, which had been fine with Jim. He hadn't had a lot of patience for kid, who, though seventeen, really wasn't here for the right reasons. To Jim's relief, he'd gone home as soon as he could after the earthquake struck, unable to handle the stress of the first few weeks, and really, no one had the time to babysit him. He'd really been too young, too immature, to handle something like this, and was only there in the first place because his big-donor parents wanted another thing for him to put on his college resume. So now he had the small space to himself again. Duncan and Simon still shared the other, and Manoucheka had been invited to share Elise's.

Jim was especially glad of the solitude now…he needed time to think. He couldn't just wait here. He didn't have Elise's patience or faith in the system. Not in a situation like this. Throwing himself down on his cot, he pulled an arm over his eyes and slowly began teasing out the first threads of a plan. It would take a little luck, and a lot of bullshit. It could get him tossed in prison (not terribly likely, given his IRC status) or killed (only slightly less likely, given the circumstances), but it also could work.

Red tape had plagued the relief efforts from the very beginning. The thing about tape, though, is that it's sticky no matter who you are. Time to put it to use.

Much later that night, Jim quietly eased out of the pitch-black portable. The generators were hardly ever on since the earthquake, in order to conserve fuel, and batteries were at a premium. Stopping in a shadowy alcove of the temporary facility created by a series of "pre-fab" fiberglass portable rooms connected by internal and external hallways, he finished dressing, trading his most comfortable and more customary hiking shoes for cleaner sneakers. He was dressed in his cleanest, most official white IRC collared shirt and khaki pants. He also had his name badge – the one with the RFID tag – on a lanyard around his neck, his vest with the unmistakable IRC logo in red on the back, and, for good measure, he slipped his glasses on. He hardly ever bothered with them…he could see fine without and it was so humid here most of the time they just steamed up and were more of a hindrance than a help.

But tonight, they were part of his look. He was in charge of his section, but he had to project that air of command a little further if his plan was going to work. Satisfied he'd done what he could to look the part, he turned…and just barely managed to clamp down on a scream that would've woken the dead.

"Where are you going?" Manny asked, looking up at him.

"Goddamnit Manny!" he wheezed. He bent at the waist, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Only the fact that she was eighteen and still hardly more than a child kept him from cursing any more than that. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I will not make your heart attack you. But if you keep taking God's name in vain, He may lose his patience with you," she answered in a flippant tone but with a serious look. Jim straightened, glared at her for a second until she broke out in a beautiful smile, and he had to smile back, despite the fact that his heart was just settling back in place. She just had that effect on people.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll try not to say that again."

Satisfied, she nodded. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

"You are dressed like an official person. Like a big-wig," she said, trying out the term she'd learned from Elise, probably. "Are you going into the city?"

"No, I'm not. I'm going on an errand. I'll be back later tonight. You should go back to bed. Now," he added, when she didn't seem inclined to move on her own.

Manny narrowed her eyes at Jim, looking up at him suspiciously. "Are you going to the airport, for supplies?" she asked.

Jim sighed. "Damnit Manny." She'd become so much of a fixture around their facility in the time she'd been there that often they spoke without really thinking of what she should hear and what she shouldn't. She was only eighteen, but she was older than that. She and her father had worked in the area, ministering to people any way they could, through their Church, through the outreach of meals and food and shelter, for so many years. It was a hard, lean lifestyle, but one she'd embraced with him, and it didn't turn off just because the Church building was destroyed, her father killed. Instead, it seemed to be her driving force now, and she'd simply taken a spot with their group, helping in any way she could once she'd recovered from the concussion she'd sustained. Now, with her hair slowly growing back – it had been shaved to suture the gash in her scalp – and her health restored, Manny was a point of light for Jim and the others in his group.

Of course, she could also be a pain in the ass.

"I want to come with you," she said.

"No."

Manny raised her head. "You need me, Jim."

He snorted. "Why would I need a short kid like you?" he asked, trying to tease some sense into her.

"Translator," she answered seriously.

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but closed it a second later. Shit, he thought. She was right.

"It's dangerous, Manny. Especially for…" he waved his hand in her direction, and she nodded. She got it. It was dangerous for women and girls, out there, at night. Especially now. There were no police, there were no courts, and many bad men. Women were being attacked on a daily basis – and with no homes with no doors and no locks, there was very little protection.

But she wasn't afraid. People needed help. She could help Jim.

"I have short hair already. I'll dress like a boy. I'll be Manny," she said.

Jim looked down at her, thinking. She was so slight that a larger shirt would hide any physicality that would give her away as a girl, stick a hat on her head, have her lower her voice slightly when talking…it could work.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Rules…you stick right by me. Wear a polo, like mine – and pants, and sneakers. And a hat. Go get changed. I'm going to make you a name badge. Meet back here in ten minutes. Got it?"

"Got it," she said, her eyes were bright with excitement.

"Oh, and Manny," he said. She turned. He pointed at her. "If you wake Elise, you're staying here and you cover for me."

Jim had to forcefully shove away the misgivings he was feeling. Since they'd found her, he'd accepted her as his responsibility, and he did feel responsible for her. Though, he knew if Elise realized what he was doing, she'd likely kick his ass from here all the way back to the States.

They separated and set to their tasks. By the light of high-powered flashlight, Jim used some of the paper supplies and a label maker (Thank you, Simon, for being such a neatfreak) Jim made Manny a name tag, and nicked Elise's IRC windbreaker. Anything to make her look as non-descript as possible. She needed to fit in next to him, and to IRC aid workers trying to find their materials in the storage facility would be commonplace nowadays. Maybe not in the middle of the night…but he was going on the premise that security would be less careful. The less, the better.

Before leaving the office portable, Jim filled a document holding clipboard with a copy of the requisition forms that they'd submitted, blank forms, and a few other odds and ends. He wasn't sure what he was going to need, and he didn't want to get there wishing he had something he didn't. A few minutes later, satisfied that he was as prepared as he could be, he left the office portable, clicking off the flashlight and locking the door behind him.

One treacherous trip in a Red Cross ERV later, across the countryside, around the outskirt of the city on roads that were still somewhat torn up, and finally Toussaint L'Overture Airport was visible in the distance. Jim's grip tightened on the steering wheel. He was banking on lax security at this time of night…not necessarily less, in terms of people…and firepower…but less careful. Taking a calming breath, he again firmly pushed aside the list of everything that could go wrong. He had a huge advantage here. He'd press it as far as he safely could.

"Manny," he said, looking over at her. She pulled her attention from the window and gave it to him. "No matter what I say, don't contradict me. Understand me?"

"Yes."

"If anyone asks you about anything, you just say you're just in from Florida as a volunteer translator."

"What if they ask for my passport?"

"No one in the IRC carries their passport around," Jim said, and Manoucheka nodded. She turned back to the window, contemplating what they were about to do.

Jim hadn't spelled it out for her, but she wasn't stupid. They were going to see if any of the materials and supplies that were so desperately needed everywhere could be made available for them. It was stealing…kind of. These things were meant to be used by anyone who needed them, and everyone needed them just as badly as everyone else. Some of them were theirs anyway…just not released yet. Jim didn't want to wait. Walking around the tent camps that provided minimal cover for hundreds of people near them, hearing the babies cry, seeing the old people sick and hungry and hot, or shivering in the rain, watching the mothers try to feed the children and the angry young men trudge to and from the city….where nothing and nobody was working…it hurt her heart. People were suffering everywhere, and they couldn't help everyone…but maybe they could help some of them.

"God helps those who help themselves," Manoucheka whispered to herself. She hadn't really meant for Jim to hear her, but he did, and he smiled at her, his foreign and strange blue eyes bright even in the darkness.

"I'm counting on that, kiddo," he agreed.

At first, it was easy. Jim's RFID badge was barely glanced at, never mind scanned, and Jim was glad he'd brought the more official Emergency Response Vehicle as opposed to the pick-up. They were waved through the first two checkpoints by UN forces so used to the sight of response vehicles, no one thought to question them.

At the entrance to the hangar tarmac, the checkpoint was being manned by US soldiers, and this time his RFID tag was scanned, and his other form of identification – an Iowa driver's license – was examined as well. He was glad he'd thought to bring that. It was true that RCI workers didn't carry their passports around with them, but it was always recommended to have at least two forms of independent ID.

"Need your ID, too, sir," the soldier said, talking to Manny. She unclipped the ID badge Jim'd given her and he passed it to the guard.

"Secondary?" he asked.

"I didn't know to bring it," she said, consciously lowering her voice slightly.

"Manny's an area volunteer," Jim said. "Translating for us."

The guard seemed to consider that for a moment, but then handed it back over. "You guys are here a little late."

"Yeah, the roads are still crap," Jim said. "Took us a hell of lot longer than I thought, and I got lost trying to get here with all the detours, but I figured we could just sleep here if necessary."

The guard didn't answer, but stepped back in the booth. He hit the button to trigger the fence and stepped back up to the vehicle to give Jim directions.

"Have a good night gentlemen," the soldier said.

"Thank you," Jim said. He drove through, keeping his eyes ahead. Manny straightened up from her slouch and grinned at him.

"How was that?" she asked.

"Perfect," he said. "Academy Award-worthy." He paused, considering. "Do you know what that means?"

"Of course, Jim. Academy Awards. Hollywood movies…maybe I'll become an actress," she said.

Jim smiled. "Kiddo, you could probably pull it off, too. Okay…here we are. He pulled up to the staging building and turned the car off. Remember what I said, right? Don't contradict me."

They exited the car and headed to the building. Pulling open the door, he saw that there were a couple of men lounging at the desk, watching a snowy television set and talking quietly.

"Uh, excuse me, hello?" Jim said. They turned towards him, looking somewhere between suspicious and bored. "Uh, bonjour. Ou pale Angle?"

The men shook their heads and Manny stepped forward, introducing them. After some brief introductions and explanations from Jim facilitated by his translator, one of the workers got up to rifle through the order requisitions, trying to find the paperwork that matched his.

And this was the part that was going to need a little bit of finessing. Because technically, Jim didn't have the authority to sign out an order of anything. But he was counting on the guys on the night shift not realizing that. One of the guys, Gideon, said something about a "dokte," and they both laughed.

"What was that?" Jim asked. Manny looked puzzled, but turned to him to translate.

"They were kidding, but wanted to know if you would like to take the doctor who is here. They say he is always complaining."

"Why is there a doctor here?" Jim asked, looking up at Gerard. Manny translated, and there was a couple moments of conversation while she got the full story.

"He came in on a flight today with a special program for doctors, but there was a mix up because no one was here to meet him and no one could be reached. He is here overnight, and they hope gone tomorrow. Unless we take him tonight."

Jim took that in for a second, running the possibility through his head…the thought of another irascible doctor. Although highly improbably, it wasn't completely impossible. And wouldn't that be an…interesting…turn of events. Jim wasn't sure how he felt about it. Whatever, he thought. The possibility of it being him was small to none.

Turning back to the business at hand, which was going a lot smoother than he'd anticipated, Gerard and Gideon started going through the various palettes of supplies. They instructed Jim to pull the ERV around to a loading area where Gerard opened the bay door. Working together, they pulled materials and loaded the ERV. Mosquito nets, bags of rice and dried beans and packages of dried beef, boxes of water purification tablets, tarps, blankets, medical supplies including medications to combat malaria, boxes of bouillon cubes, biodegradable soaps…materials that would make a huge difference to a lot of people – it was amazing how much was just sitting there, waiting for a signature. It nearly made him physically ill. How could people allow this? People were dying because they couldn't get clean water, and the means to make water safe for drinking for countless people was just sitting here.

Jim had driven the ERV here empty, and he would be leaving with it full…and still only have less than half of what they were supposed to get.

But even that was better than nothing, and he had no doubt he wouldn't have been able to pull this off during the day. The government officials in Haiti who were holding up the distribution of the materials being sent in from other countries were doing so in the public name of "fairness and accountability". What that translated to was everyone wanted to make sure the influential people responsible for their government appointments got help first, and got the final say in where materials would go…resulting in a traffic jam while all but the most fortunate suffered.

The thought of so much just sitting at the airport, waiting to be released to the people who needed it the most, was sickening. And while they worked, Jim got the very clear impression that Gerard and Gideon – brothers, it turned out – weren't quite as clueless to the proper procedure as they made themselves out to be. They didn't question Jim's messily scrawled signature that could've been his name, and just as easily might not have been. They didn't copy is ID tag. They handed his forms, and the copies they'd had, back to him, and allowed him to replace the original forms with new ones that were adjusted for the materials they were leaving with tonight. It seemed to Jim that they were just happy that at least some of the supplies were going to get out holding and to the people who needed them.

Before long, they were finished filling the ERV, Jim wondering if this was going to come back to bite him in the ass. They'd only taken what was on their lists, and it was going where it was supposed to go, but still, they were all breaking a lot of rules.

Caught up as he was in the excitement of getting at least this much to bring back, Jim couldn't find it within himself to worry too much about possible consequences. Pulling the door down on the ERV and locking it in place, Jim turned to the two men who'd helped him. "Merci," Jim said, shaking their hands. "Thank you."

Gideon replied to him and Manny translated, "Please make sure it gets where it needs to go."

She and Jim climbed back into the cab of the ERV, and Jim was about to turn the ignition, but paused, thinking. It might not be him. It probably wasn't. But it could be.

"Manny…I think I might be an idiot."

"Yes," she said.

"Yes?" He looked over at her, eyebrow raised.

She giggled and shrugged. "Elise thinks so."

"Hm. You're talking to Elise way too much." He sat in the car, hands on the steering wheel for another moment, contemplating the possibility. "Okay. We've gotta check. C'mon Manny."

"Check what?" she asked, following his lead and opening the door again, slipping out of the cab.

"The odds," he replied. She puzzled over that answer as she followed him back into the office of the storage facility.

"Manny – ask them about the doctor. Do they know his name?"

Manny and the brothers talked for a few moments, and Gerard stood, heading towards the back and up a flight of stairs.

"They don't remember his name…but he is sleeping here, upstairs," Manny said. "Gerard will get him."

"Thank you," Jim said, and Gideon nodded. He paced over to the window, looking out in the dark night. He was nervous. And he wasn't completely certain what outcome he hoped to have here. Manny took a seat beside where he stood, and he crossed his arms over his chest, glancing down at her with a tight smile. A few minutes went by, during which Jim replayed the couple of months before he'd left for his first deployment with IRC. Things hadn't been left on the best note, but they hadn't been awful either. He wondered what would happen…how they'd react to each other if…

"…what the damn hell is going on that you have to wake a person up…"

Jim sucked in a breath. He'd recognize that grumble anywhere.

He turned, and his eyes met those of the doctor as he froze in surprise on his way down the stairs.

"Hey Bones."